


Regenerations

by dustyfluorescent



Category: Doctor Who, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crossover, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-07
Updated: 2012-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-30 18:29:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustyfluorescent/pseuds/dustyfluorescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>re·gen·er·ate <i>verb</i><br/>To become formed again.<br/>To change radically and for the better.<br/>To restore to original strength or properties.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regenerations

**Author's Note:**

> It seems that I can't resist Wholock.

When The Doctor first meets Sherlock Holmes, he is a miserable wreck; straight off the battlefields, struggling to stand up straight, to keep breathing. Sherlock looks at him for a long time, scanning the body that he can't yet fathom is actually his now; the dirty, torn clothes that he would really just love to burn. The Doctor can feel the way Sherlock simply notices his misery, his exhaustion, his guilt. Everything he has ever done, everyone he has ever been. Every choice he's ever had to make, and how he's not sure if he can live with them.

"Who did you kill?" 

Even if he weren't quite simply just too exhausted to lie, he wouldn't. This man, he realises, can see right through him.

"Everyone."

He takes Sherlock to see the universe. He doesn't tell him much anything about Gallifrey. It's all too real, still, and he can't bear to think about what he's done. He doesn't want to remember everything he's lost, but he does. Every time he closes his eyes, it all happens again. 

Sherlock understands that. Maybe one day, if The Doctor will ever be ready. 

***

Meeting Rose feels like a different universe after Sherlock. It's the same city, though, and everything about it is the same. London never really changes, and The Doctor loves that about it. He is trying very hard not to think that it's as close to coming back home as he's ever going to get. 

Rose is nothing like Sherlock. She is bright and wonderful and brave. Full of life and laughter, and wise in a way that sometimes feels very foreign to The Doctor. Just a bit brilliant. Sherlock helped The Doctor survive another day. Rose makes him really _want_ to live again. Through her, he understands how much there is still to see. He falls in love, without reserve, without questions, and every day with her is a new beginning.

But he can't seem to let Sherlock go. The ghost of him grabs the edges of his consciousness, tugging stubbornly until he gives in. He kisses Rose and drops her off to see her mum, and is gone before she has the time to even notice.

"You actually have a pattern," Sherlock tells him when he sees him. "Did you even realise that?"

"No," The Doctor sighs. "But I'm not surprised."

He wraps his arms around Sherlock, and buries his face in his neck, breathing in his scent. So familiar. Intoxicating. 

"How is Rose?" Sherlock asks, mocking. He sounds almost bored, really. 

"Don't."

And they kiss.

***

Sherlock likes having sex in the TARDIS. _It's inspiring_ , he says. _I'll never know enough about this ship_. The Doctor laughs and pulls him closer, feeling his skin, trying to get closer. _You_ , he says, _are always too far away_. And he knows that this too shall pass, but he doesn't care, because never before has he been so alone in his life. 

Every time he goes back to Rose, he feels shattered and hollow, choking back longing and desperation. I should tell her, he thinks, and he never does. She can't possibly think that she is the only one for me, he tells himself, and decides to ignore the fact that Rose has probably realised that ages ago. And that maybe it hurts her as much as all of this hurts him.

He doesn't want to lose her, but he doesn't want to leave Sherlock, either. He spends hours thinking about a way out, even though he knows full well that all of this is futile, and none of this matters, because in the end, they all break his heart. In the end, they all leave him, and when that happens, he'll have nothing. That is what he's desperately trying not to think about.

So he keeps lying to her, and he keeps seeing him, and she probably knows but never says anything, because somehow, she's accepted that this one thing that she wants so much, _just be mine, Doctor_ , she can't ask of him.

***

Rose looks into the TARDIS and the power of the time vortex pours into her. So she saves her home planet and so many lives, and it should kill her, but The Doctor can't let that happen, because she is so much better than him.

He regenerates. Rose can't believe it's true. She's scared and doubtful, but deep down, she knows it's him.

Sherlock knows it's him before he has the time to even say hello.

"You've changed again," Sherlock says.

"What do you mean, again?"

"You had obviously just changed when we first met."

The Doctor laughs. "Yeah. Obviously."

"How is it?"

"It's not like I've never done it before. But it's never pleasant."

"I meant the body."

"Oh. Well... It's alright, I guess. Nothing too weird. What do you think?"

"Not bad." There's a smile playing on his lips as he steps closer, looking, takes The Doctor's hands in his own, kisses his knuckles. Laughs.

"You grew another hand? Really?" 

"Um."

"That's very hot."

"I should have known you'd think that."

"I like your coat."

"Thanks."

"Take it off."

The Doctor complies. Sherlock strokes his cheekbones, runs his fingers trough his hair, places a light kiss on his lips. He runs his hands down his back, grabs his shoulders, breathing hot against his ear. The Doctor can hear the smile in Sherlock's voice.

"You're taller."

"So I am."

"How is Rose?"

"Shut up."

***

After what happens to Rose in the battle of Canary Wharf, The Doctor doesn't go back to Sherlock anymore. He doesn't want him to ask how Rose is, he doesn't want him to know what's happened. He doesn't want him to realise how this has broken him. 

It isn't once or twice that he thinks about it. It seems like torture to stay away from Sherlock. He doesn't talk about him, and refuses to think about him, and yet he's there, haunting him on the edges of every dream he has. He sees him in the city one day, but doesn't go to him. He doesn't know why.

In the end, Martha knows everything about Rose, and how much he loved her, but hasn't ever even heard Sherlock's name.

He meets The Master again, after having thought him dead for so long, and it's just ripping open old wounds, disgusting, painful. He's bleeding love all over him, and it pains him how much they still hate each other. The love has never really ended, but it has changed shape, turned into deceit and bitterness, and it's been like that for so long that The Doctor can hardly tell the difference. And he can't fight him, not really, not like he would want to, and yet, that is all they're ever going to be, fighting. 

In the end, he doesn't even need to fight. The Master dies in his arms, because to live has become too painful for him, too humiliating, like a prison rather than an adventure. The Doctor burns his body, watches the fire fade, thinking about everything he's ever lost. 

He thinks about going to Sherlock, but doesn't. When Rose comes back, he almost gives in, but then she's gone before he has the time to get used to her presence again, and he decides that for now, he's had enough old wounds reopened.

He has to let Donna go. She's a better friend than he could ever have hoped to deserve, and he would have loved to travel with her forever. After he has to leave her behind, he is alone again. Everybody has somebody, and no matter how much they love him, they always choose someone else first. He thinks about Sherlock, and almost goes back to him. 

And then The Master comes back, pulls him up from his endless pit of despair and self-pity just to throw him back in. _I wonder what I'd be without you_. He doesn't want to know, not really.

The Master saves his life, but it's not enough. The Doctor leaves this lifetime behind alone, unwilling to move forward. I liked me, he thinks, and takes a trip to say goodbye to everyone he's known like this. 

He goes to find Sherlock, too. He's happy. He still lives with John, who's clearly been good for him. Sherlock doesn't need him, so he just goes, and doesn't think about going back to him anymore.

He doesn't want to go, like he never does, but this time, there is nobody to impress, so he just lets the misery take him over when he regenerates.

***

He leaves his past behind him for the first time in what feels like ages, and crashes headfirst into a different kind of future, or so he hopes. He feels as though he could at least give himself a chance at one. 

He meets Amy Pond, and it's fine, because she is wonderful, and she has known him all her life. She tells him things he's been waiting for someone to say to him without even realising it. She lets him think that it's fine to be happy, that it's fine not to spend every waking moment thinking about what has happened in the past. He starts to think that maybe everything is going to be all right. And if not, then at least he can pretend. He could do that, for her. It's like he has a best friend again, and it's wonderful. 

That's when Sherlock calls him. 

"What's wrong?"

"You have a new voice."

"Yeah, it goes together with my new body."

"I like it."

"You haven't seen it."

"I meant the voice. But I don't think I'll have anything against the body, either."

"I bet you won't. Now, what's wrong?"

"I need your help."

"Yeah? That's not something you say too often."

"No, but I'm fairly sure this isn't something I'm capable of doing on my own. Being able to travel in time would be tremendously helpful right now."

The Doctor can't help but smile, but he's blinking back tears. He's missed this man so much, and it's unbelievable that he's actually managed to stay away from him for so long. Unbelievably foolish, really. Just his voice is enough of a reminder.

Sherlock is going to fake his own death, and he needs to disappear. He doesn't think he could keep lying to John for three years. That man has definitely changed Sherlock, The Doctor thinks, unable to stop smiling. Sentiment. In the end, even Sherlock couldn't resist.

They agree on a time and a place.

After the phonecall, The Doctor tells Amy everything there is to know about Sherlock and him. Nothing has ever felt so liberating before. It's a weight being lifted off his chest, and he can breathe freely again. Afterwards, they pretend they never had that conversation. Amy doesn't want that, but The Doctor doesn't give her a choice.

***

The Doctor tells Amy that he needs to do this on his own. Luckily, Amy doesn't argue. She understands. Somehow, she always does.

The Doctor lands the TARDIS not far from the graveyard a few minutes before the time they agreed on. He quietly walks through the gates, passes old gravestones unnoticed. He spots Sherlock from afar, watching John standing by the gravestone that should be his, and is, too, in every way that actually matters. He doesn't go closer, even though he's pretty sure that Sherlock has already noticed him there. 

Sherlock doesn't even turn to look at him before John is gone. Then he just walks up to him, no questions asked. There's a sadness in his eyes. The Doctor raises his hand in greeting.

"You look the same," Sherlock says.

"I know what you mean."

Sherlock wraps his arms around him and leans his forehead against The Doctor's shoulder. He draws a few shaky breaths, but when he looks back up again, his expression is unreadable. Like nothing could ever really touch him. That's a lie, and about as big as they get.

"I already said my goodbyes," Sherlock says quietly.

"It's alright to miss him."

"I hate that I have to make him wait."

"I know."

They walk slowly, side by side, and Sherlock explains the situation. How he needs to appear dead to keep his closest friends alive. How everybody now thinks he is a fake, a fraud, a criminal, and just couldn't take it when the truth finally came out. He knows John believes in him, but he doesn't know how long that will last. Maybe he'll come back to someone who has already forgotten about him. Maybe there is no John when he returns. Three years is a long time, but any less would be dangerous, and even that poses a threat. It's not a good idea. But he can't let John believe him dead.

The Doctor listens quietly, and then promises Sherlock that John won't forget. That he won't lose faith. He won't give up on life, that much is clear. John has always been too noble for that. That's what they hope, at least.

"Why didn't you ever come back?" Sherlock asks. It's not because he wants to blame The Doctor. It's because he actually wants to know.

"I don't know," The Doctor answers. It's almost genuine. Sherlock raises an eyebrow, and The Doctor smiles. Sherlock knows he's lying, but he won't say that. He doesn't need to.

"How is Rose?" he asks instead.

The Doctor looks at him with sad eyes, and they both know that it's settled. They don't ever need to talk about any of that again.

"Are you ready?" The Doctor asks.

"Three years. Not a day longer."

***

When John calls him - _please tell me he's there with you, please tell me he's not actually dead, please tell me he made it and now you're travelling with him, please, Doctor, just tell me that_ \- he doesn't answer. When Amy looks at him disapprovingly, he turns his head away and pretends that he doesn't notice. This isn't a decision for him to make.

The Doctor takes Amy with him, and they go to discover the streets of London, spreading the word with cans of yellow spray paint. _This man is not a fake_. They go around leaving John little hints, anything to help him get through. _Believe in Sherlock Holmes_. He wants to tell John, because he knows the pain of loss; the numbing despair, the gnawing eternity of it. But he never does. For once, this isn't about him. This isn't his choice to make. He can live with that.

He never meets Sherlock again.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a [sequel](http://archiveofourown.org/works/345562).


End file.
